Hour by hour the clouds thickened, obscuring every ray of light, closing

the avenues of sight and sound, until, isolated from the outer world by

this intangible yet impenetrable barrier, Darrell was alone in a world

peopled only with the phantoms of his imagination. Of the lapse of time,

of the weary procession of days and nights which followed, he knew

nothing. Day and night were to him only an endless repetition of the

horrors which thronged his fevered brain.

Again and again he lived over the tragic scene in the sleeping-car, each

iteration and reiteration growing in dreadful realism, until it was he

himself who grappled in deadly contest with the murderer, and the latter

in turn became a monster whose hot breath stifled him, whose malign,

demoniacal glance seemed to sear his eyeballs like living fire. Over and

over, with failing strength, he waged the unequal contest, striving at

last with a legion of hideous forms. Then, as the clouds grew still more

dense about him, these shapes grew dim and he found himself, weak and

trembling, adrift upon a sea of darkness whose black waves tossed him

angrily, with each breath threatening to engulf him in their gloomy

depths. Desperately he battled with them, each struggle leaving him

weaker than the last, until at length, scarcely breathing, his strength

utterly exhausted, he lay watching the towering forms as they swept

relentlessly towards him, gathering strength and fury as they came. He

saw the yawning abysses on each side, he heard the roar of the

on-coming waves, but was powerless to move hand or foot.

But while he waited in helpless terror the waves on which he tossed to

and fro grew calm; then they seemed to divide, and he felt himself going

down, down into infinite depths. The sullen roar died away; the darkness

was flooded with golden light, and through its ethereal waves he was

still floating downward more gently than ever a roseleaf floated to

earth on the evening's breath. Through the waves of golden light there

came to him a faint, distant murmur of voices, and the words,-"He is sinking fast!"

He smiled with perfect content, wondering dreamily if it would never

end; then consciousness was lost in utter oblivion.

* * * * *

Three weeks had elapsed since Darrell came to The Pines. August had

given place to September, but the languorous days brought no cessation

of the fearful heat, no cooling rain to the panting earth, no promise of

renewed life to the drought-smitten vegetation. The timber on the ranges

had been reduced to masses of charred and smouldering embers, among

which the low flames still crept and crawled, winding their way up and

down the mountains. The pall of smoke overhanging the city grew more and

more dense, until there came a morning when, as the sun looked over the

distant ranges, the landscape was suffused with a dull red glare which

steadily deepened until all objects assumed a blood-red hue. Two or

three hours passed, and then a lurid light illumined the strange scene,

brightening moment by moment, till earth and sky glowed like a mass of

molten copper. The heat seemed to concentrate upon that part of the

earth's surface, the air grew oppressive, and an ominous silence

reigned, in which even the birds were hushed and the dumb brutes cowered

beside their masters.




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